


When the Circus Fades, You Were Always Carouseling

by SixofOne



Category: Granblue Fantasy (Video Game)
Genre: Belial literally will not stfu the entire way through, Dubcon lite?, Dubcon... ish?, It's like a consensual non-consent thing, Look Lucilius is very into it but would rather die than say it, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-25
Updated: 2019-03-25
Packaged: 2019-12-07 08:51:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18232649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SixofOne/pseuds/SixofOne
Summary: Belial can't stop himself from smiling fondly."Oh, Cilius, your body is so much more honest than your mouth is. And to think you accuse me of liking to play games."





	When the Circus Fades, You Were Always Carouseling

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Forgiveness by Made in Heights: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=f_DX1A7f43o
> 
> This is set sometime relatively close to when Belial was first created, before he and Lucilius managed to figure out each others quirks yet. So I dunno, anywhere from like 1-2000 years after he was made? ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

Belial finds him sitting in the middle of his lab - of course - all of the exam tables and medical carts pushed haphazardly to the side in favor of pages and pages of notes laid out all over the floor, with Lucilius sitting hunched over and cross-legged in the center.

 

It's a horrible sign. Lucilius only ever dropped to the floor and began pulling the pages from his journals when something had gone both very, very wrong, and was very, very difficult to figure out, and the discarded lump of something that looks vaguely organic yet very much an indistinguishable mass of flesh laid out on one of the exam tables only adds to the impression.

 

"Cilius," Belial says, carefully picking his way around a cart of medical tools that appears to have been flipped over in a fit of rage, but Lucilius doesn't answer. He has one elbow leaning on his knee, head resting against his hand with his fingers tugging fitfully through his hair as he examines a specific page. " _Cilius,_ " Belial tries again, but only gets a thoughtless _nnn_ sound in response as Lucilius flips the page to stare at the other side of the notes.

 

Belial waits for a moment to see if he'll look up on his own, but when it becomes clear that Lucilius has barely even noticed his presence, he heaves out a large sigh and carefully makes his way closer.

 

" _Really_ now, that's just cold. I would have thought I'd be a little more interesting than some dusty pages out of an old notebook," he says, too much of a smirk behind his voice to truly sound wounded as he carefully steps between two discarded piles. That finally draws a snort from Lucilius, the hand fisted in his hair loosening slightly, though he still doesn't bother looking up.

 

"I can't imagine what would have given you that impression," Lucilius murmurs, voice low and flat but with just the barest hint of a sneer, and Belial shivers happily.

 

He always had liked it when Lucilius was a little bit cruel.

 

He sits down in one of the few clear spots next to Lucilius' hunched form, crossing his legs as well and leaning his arms on his knees as he looks at the side of the Astral's face.

 

Everyone else said that Lucifer and Lucilius looked the same, and maybe at first glance, they did: both were fair skinned with light hair, roughly the same size with faces just a little closer to pretty than handsome, but really, the similarities ended there. Belial might still be one of the newer of Lucilius' creations, but he could tell the difference nearly the moment his eyes had opened. Lucilius was just slightly smaller, paler - his lips not nearly as full and his jaw not quite as sharp. His eyes weren't as blue, falling more on the side of steel than the deep sky blue of Lucifer's, and his hair was more silver than blonde. They looked similar in the sense that Lucilius had created Lucifer to look like him, but, by conscious choice or subconscious accident, had created a slightly more perfect version of himself.

 

Lucifer was certainly more objectively beautiful, but Lucilius, with his pinched frowns and cold eyes, was the loveliest thing Belial had ever seen.

 

He watches as Lucilius' eyes slowly stop on the page, clearly unfocused, before he abruptly drops his hand from his hair with an annoyed sigh, and Belial has to bite back a fond smile when he sees the way his hair remains ruffled even without his fingers tugging at it.

 

" _What?_ " Lucilius finally says, looking over at Belial with his brows drawn together in a frown. "Why are you bothering me?"

 

And he looks very pretty like this, Belial thinks; all thickly-lashed eyes and pouty mouth. There's something vaguely threatening in the way he regards Belial, despite the dark ink stain on his bottom lip from where he must have been thoughtlessly tapping his pen against his mouth, and Belial grits his teeth for a moment from how badly he wants to sink them into that pale skin.

 

"You've been in here for days," Belial says, voice uncharacteristically gentle, though Lucilius only scowls harder at the tone, "you have to stop sometime."

 

"Why?" Lucilius challenges, eyes narrowed. He maintains eye contact for several seconds, looking as though he may snap further, then drops them back to the page in his hand with a sigh instead. "It isn't right yet. I need to figure out what's wrong with my formula."

 

Belial extends his hand. "Can I see?" And for a moment, Lucilius snatches the paper against his chest, frowning at Belial suspiciously. But Belial just widens his fingers, extends his hand a little further, and Lucilius finally relents and cautiously hands him the page.

 

" _Be careful,_ " he bites out the moment Belial's fingers close around it, "that is infinitely more valuable to me than you are."

 

Belial smiles and gently pulls it from him, glancing over the scrawling numbers on the page. "Always so cruel," he muses quietly, and isn't that exactly what made Lucilius so _fascinating:_ his little master, cruel words and icy heart, who made bodies out of scraps and gave them spirits out of thin air. Lucilius always seemed to feel absolutely nothing at all, and yet he had surrounded himself with an army of beings who could feel _so deeply,_ with personalities and thoughts as though to patch up the missing parts of his own soul.

 

Belial blinks, and refocuses on the page in front of him. "So what's the issue with it?"

 

There's a soft rustle of fabric, the weight of Lucilius' arm against his own as he shifts close behind Belial and reaches a slender finger out to drag across the page, and Belial curls his free hand in a fist to keep it from reaching out and touching him. "The core keeps overloading in the new angel I'm trying to create, but I can't figure out why. I'm sure I have all the elements right, but something keeps going... _wrong._ " He says, voice going low and bitter on the last word as though admitting to even the slightest inability causes some twinge of physical pain.

 

Belial hides his smile behind his hand as he looks at the row upon row of calculations, looking for anything that stood out. He flips the page to the other side, getting halfway down before his eyes focus in on one line in particular and he starts to laugh. "Oh- I think this was supposed to be an eight here," he says, and feels Lucilius' hands suddenly grip hard into his shoulder as he leans over to look at the page. "You just have bad handwriting and it looked like a six."

 

"Impossible."

 

"No really, look," Belial says, pointing, "the formulas are all correct, but this number is throwing all the math off. Like down here—"

 

He can feel the slight inhale of breath before Lucilius makes a soft _oh_ noise next to his face, reaching out and snatching the paper thoughtlessly from Belial's fingers as his blue eyes begin scanning over the numbers. After several long moments, he abruptly stands, quietly murmuring, "how stupid," before turning away in a swirl of cloth, and Belial jumps to his feet to follow.

 

"Cilius-"

 

"Shut up, I'm busy," Lucilius says without looking up, smoothing the page against one of the empty exam tables, and Belial makes a soft tutting noise as he rounds the other side.

 

" _Cilius,_ " Belial tries again, managing to be both infuriatingly reproachful and placating at the same time, like one might deal with a child throwing a particularly monstrous temper tantrum, "I helped you solve your little problem, the least you can do is listen to me for a second."

 

Lucilius looks up from his notes with a low noise of irritation, eyes beautifully sharp. " _What,_ then? What do you _want?_ " and though he's whispering, the consonants seem to ring out as loud as a shout as they echo against their austere surroundings.

 

Belial smiles and leans forward, pausing to see if Lucilius will shrink away from the proximity. He doesn't. "Come by my room when your finished."

 

And Lucilius does look briefly surprised at that, pale lashes fluttering in a single blink, but then he simply looks back down at exam table in front of them. "Why?" Then, not waiting for an answer, adds "actually, never mind. It doesn't matter anyway. I already made the mistake of agreeing to see Beezlebub later today, and as honored as I am to be in the presence of such _greatness,_ I'm afraid two insipid social visits in one day seems a bit too much like self-flaggelation."

 

Belial throws his head back and laughs, so genuinely delighted that he nearly claps his hands. "What's this? Don't tell me you actually have a sense of humor locked up in there. Oh, Cilius, this is _terrible -_ how am I ever supposed to resist you now?" Lucilius rolls his eyes and opens his mouth to speak, but Belial leans forward quickly and continues before he can interrupt, "and if it's the _self_ -flaggelation you have issues with, I'm sure I could take care of that for you when you come by. Unless, of course, Bubs fills up your quota for that, too."

 

"If you think he has the imagination for anything beyond strutting around like a peacock, then you're more fool than I thought," Lucilius says, not flinching even as Belial crowds into his space. His face is still cool and tranquil, giving away almost nothing, but Belial can see where he's biting the inside of his cheek to keep himself from smirking.

 

Belial stands slowly, tilting his head to the side. "Is that what you want, then? A little imagination from the person you're with? Because believe me, I can _imagine_ plenty of ways other than just flagellation to make our visit less 'insipid'."

 

Lucilius slowly looks over Belial's face, giving him an assessing look as Belial can practically see the gears whirring behind his eyes, but then finally gives the slightest nod. "Alright then, if you're so insistent. But later. I'm busy now."

 

"Aren't you always." Belial says with a smirk, but he steps back from the table and begins to make his way back to the entrance. "See you soon, Cilius."

 

\---

 

When Lucilius hovers in his doorway hours later - clearly freshly washed, as the ink on his face is gone and his hair finally lays flat again - Belial can't help but think how strange he looks in a place as mundane as a bedroom. He's so used to seeing him in the sickly green glow of his lab, or pale skin brilliantly glowing in the courtyard sun, that seeing it cast in gentle warmth from the lamps around them is almost more than his brain can process.

 

Something as cold and clinical as Cilius plucked from his sterile environment and placed in a quiet room with soft fabrics... no hum of equipment, no frigid tiles, no ominous backdrop. He looks deeply out-of-his-element for all he tries to maintain his neutral expression of disdain, and _fuck,_ what a vision that is.

 

"That meeting with Beezlebub dragged on nearly past the point of rationality, and I'm in absolutely no mood to prattle in circles as you seem to be so fond of," Lucilius says quietly, and it's strange just how much _softer_ it sounds when it isn't echoing off of metal and glass, "so let's get to whatever pressing issue you wanted to discuss and be done with this."

 

Belial smiles wide, leaning back on the feet of the chair he's sitting on, and makes a gesture to the chair across the table from him. "You might as well sit down," he says casually, and Lucilius sneers.

 

"You can't possibly be serious." Despite the iciness of his words, Lucilius steps further into the room and quietly shuts the door behind him all the same, though his fingertips hover over the knob as though considering whether or not to bolt away.

 

"Oh, I'm very serious. I just wanted a chance to talk to you for a bit."

 

Lucilius narrows his eyes, slowly moving close enough to hover at the edge of the small square table. "You seemed to insinuate that it was actually _important_ earlier."

 

"It is," Belial insists with a laugh, "but nothing nefarious, and no talking in circles. I just never get a chance to speak to you separately anymore; not since you first created me. Is it really so strange that I wanted to see you away from the lab?"

 

Lucilius' face is still drawn in with irritation and mistrust, eyes never leaving Belial's face as he slowly sinks into the chair opposite him. "Is it a game, then?" he murmurs, gaze sharp, "I'm to guess what your intentions are?" Then, after a moment, quietly adds, "I _hate_ games."

 

"No games," Belial says, raising his hands in surrender, the wood creaking under him each time he rocks backwards, "I swear. Just conversation."

 

Lucilius makes a quiet _tsking_ sound, still regarding Belial unblinkingly, like a predator watching prey. "Your promises mean very little. You forget that I made you; I know exactly how much your word is worth."

 

"Ahh, that is right, isn't it." Belial smirks, leaning an arm on the back of his chair casually. "Why though, I wonder. Why make _me?_ "

 

Lucilius' face finally shifts just slightly, head tilting to the side in that way it always did when he was trying to figure something out. _Cute._ "I already gave you your purpose," he says slowly, and Belial nods.

 

"You did. You wanted something so tempting as to be truly deceptive, right?"

 

Lucilius goes impossibly stiller in front of him, shoulders tense as he looks between Belial's eyes. There's a long pause, the silence heavy, before Lucilius finally asks, "just what are you playing at, devil," and Belial laughs again.

 

"I'm a _devil_ now, am I? But you did say you hate playing games. Well alright then, it goes against _my nature,_ but I'll cut straight to the chase: I want to fuck you."

 

The cold expression in front of him doesn't change, and Lucilius only pauses for a moment before quietly snapping out an incredulous, " _what._ "

 

Belial waves a hand carelessly in the air. "Or rather, I think _you_ want me to fuck you, and you know we angels just _live_ to serve our purpose."

 

"You've gone faulty," Lucilius says, bracing his hands on the table as if to stand. "I clearly made more mistakes than the one in the lab earlier, because you're absolutely _insane._ "

 

"Oh, am I?" Belial suddenly growls, the fake, pleasant smile falling away for something more feral as he drops to the floor in front of Lucilius, pressing his hands against his thighs to trap him between the wall, the table, and the back of the chair. "You said it. You said you created me to be everything you couldn't resist."

 

"I absolutely did _not_ say that," Lucilius says, voice still cold but beginning to shake at the edges, and Belial runs his hands up his thighs and stands to press his mouth against the pale column of his throat.

 

"But you _did,_ Cilius, you did. I remember. You said you needed to create a form beautiful enough to leave people weak- but beauty is so subjective, and yet here you are, _trembling._ "

 

"I'm not trembling," Lucilius snaps, sounding so genuinely offended by the accusation that Belial laughs, hot breath curling around Lucilius' skin.

 

He slides his hands to gently grip Lucilius' wrists, pulling them up towards his chest and shifting his face so close their lips nearly touch. "You are, though. Can't you feel it?" Lucilius inhales sharply, the air cold as it rushes across their mouths. "Look, even your lips are shaking."

 

" _Enough,_ " Lucilius says lowly, tugging at his wrists though not hard enough to pull them from Belial's grasp. "You've had your 'conversation,' and your little game. We're done here."

 

"Alright then, break free," Belial says, goading, dragging Lucilius up from the chair and pulling him up close to his face, "I know you could if you wanted to. I'm not so arrogant as to think that I could force you to do _anything._ I know you're stronger than me."

 

Lucilius is staring up at him with his teeth clenched, eyes so furious they practically _burn,_ white-hot and hateful with more passion in them than Belial can ever remember seeing on his face before — yet when he begins twisting his arms around to try to pull them loose, Belial's grip still stays strong with barely any effort at all.

 

"Come on," Belial laughs, shoving Lucilius backwards until his back hits the wall. " _Angel,_ you have to try harder than that. I'm starting to think you don't want to throw me off."

 

"You'd like that, wouldn't you," Lucilius hisses, lip curling, "You'd like being able to hold me down."

 

Lucilius is barely even bothering to struggle at this point, but Belial presses his wrists against the wall next to his head anyway, pushing until he can feel the delicate bones start to scrape. "I don't know, you _made_ me. You tell me. Did you design me to want to hold you down against your will?" He dips his head down, lips ghosting over the spot where Lucilius' jaw meets his neck before nipping gently at the skin and sighing hot against his ear. "Is that what it is? Do you want it to hurt? Do you want to feel helpless? Do you want it to feel like I'm _forcing_ you?"

 

This close, he can actually feel the tiny, nearly imperceptible shiver that runs down Lucilius' spine; hear the way his teeth grit together as he clenches them. He pulls back just enough to look at Lucilius' face, see the way his steely blue eyes are nearly black with pupil, lips parted for air and cheeks flushed just slightly from the way his heart must be pounding, and Belial can't stop himself from smiling fondly.

 

"Oh, Cilius, your body is so much more honest than your mouth is. And to think you accuse me of liking to play games."

 

He watches the way the anger leeches from Lucilius' face just slightly, the long sigh that escapes him sounding like surrender, before Lucilius quietly says, "You're not entirely wrong. But you're not entirely right, either." He pauses. Then, as an afterthought, quietly adds, "I'm not fond of pain." The words are careful, attempting to give as little away as possible, but Belial has always been good at reading behind the lines, and he has to drop his face back against Lucilius' neck and take several deep breaths to try to school the grin off his face and slow his pounding heart.

 

"Just the pain part you don't want? But you're fine with the rest of it, aren't you." He finally asks when he's sure he can speak without bursting out into delighted laughter. "Good, because the last thing I've ever wanted was to make you hurt."

 

Lucilius' lips are chapped when he leans back to roughly kiss him - a side effect of his habit of mindlessly biting at them while he works - and Belial bites him even harder, dragging him away from the wall so abruptly that Lucilius nearly stumbles. For a moment he considers how he wants to fuck him: like a whore, braced against the table with his robe hiked up under his arms and leggings pulled down to the tops of his thighs, maybe; or maybe Belial could remain fully clothed but strip Lucilius bare, leaving him vulnerable and exposed in a way that would make him angry and _frightened._ Lucilius would probably love that, and hate it, and _love it._

 

In the end, though, the appeal of feeling Lucilius' skin against his own is too appealing to resist, and Belial quickly strips him of his robe and thin black shirt before moving his hands to his own clothing. "Take your boots off," he says as he fumbles with the buttons at the front of his stiff white coat, and is pleasantly surprised when Lucilius immediately reaches down to follow Belial's instructions without having to argue first.

 

He manages to shrug out of his coat, shoes, and shirt by the time Lucilius has his second boot off, and Belial shoves him back towards the bed roughly before he has time to find his footing again. Lucilius stumbles, knees hitting the mattress, and Belial grabs him by the hips to throw him down so hard that he bounces when his back hits the mattress.

 

"Fuck, you're so pretty," Belial praises mindlessly, forcing Lucilius' legs apart to slide between them. He leans his full weight down onto the lithe body under him, pushing his hips forward so Lucilius can feel the hard line of his own cock through his pants, and curls one arm up to slide his fingers through his soft silver hair. "You're so fucking _pretty._ "

 

"Shut _up,_ " Lucilius hisses back, though his chest is starting to heave, and Belial smiles at him fondly, rolling his hips heavily down against Lucilius' groin again.

 

Lucilius doesn't moan, but he does press his lips tight together as his eyes slide shut, and that alone seems like enough of a win to Belial. He sits back and hooks his fingers into the top of Lucilius' leggings to drag them down, pausing just long enough to nip at the pretty dips of his hipbones before stripping him bare, eyes roving over the slender musculature of Lucilius' body.

 

"I wonder how many beasts you had to make before you got it right and made me," he muses, hooking Lucilius' long legs over his shoulders as he presses and open-mouthed kiss at the juncture of his thigh. Lucilius begins shifting under him, hands jumping to clutch at Belial's hair almost nervously, and Belial presses a smile against his skin as he licks a long, slow stripe against the smooth skin where his thigh meets his torso.

 

"This was — never a goal," Lucilius hisses through clenched teeth, gasping and jerking as Belial moves to puff a hot breath of air across his already wet cock. When Belial looks up, he finds Lucilius looking _wonderfully_ tormented, teeth chewing at his lower lip and eyes shut tight under furrowed brows, his fingers gripping at the sheets under him as his body shakes under Belial's hands.

 

Belial pauses to drag the tip of his tongue across the head of Lucilius' cock, enjoying the hiss it elicits and the way his hips begin to jerk. "It wasn't?" He takes his time to lick and kiss up the shaft of him, feeling the way the sheets shift as Lucilius grips them tighter. "Well then I guess you just got lucky, didn't you."

 

He finally sucks Lucilius' cock into his mouth, swallowing deep around him, and Lucilius actually lets out a terrified sounding _whine,_ stomach convulsing and body curling towards Belial's head even as his hips try to jerk away. Belial wraps his arms around his thighs and drags him back down, twisting his head as he slides his lips all the way to the base again, and Lucilius begins panting above him.

 

"Damn you, _damn you,_ I never should have made you-" He cuts off with a high, loud gasp as Belial slides his tongue around the crown of his cock, and Belial can feel when his head drops back against the mattress and his thighs unconsciously begin to spread wider.

 

He pulls off him with a loud, purposefully showy slurping noise the moment Lucilius' knees fall open completely, the display of self control beginning to break - and the partly furious, partly frightened grimace on his face as a result of it - enough to satisfy him for now. He gets to his feet and moves to the nightstand, pausing just long enough to finish undressing before opening the drawer and pulling out a vial of oil.

 

"You're going to hate this, you know," Belial says casually when he moves back to the bed, pressing close to lay against Lucilius' side. "It's going to feel very good, and you won't have any control over it, and you're going to _hate_ it." He can hear Lucilius' pretty throat click as he swallows hard, neck arching with a gasp, and Belial can't seem to get the oil open fast enough.

 

He slides the first finger into Lucilius without any preamble, not bothering to give him time to adjust before beginning to fuck into him slow and smooth, and Lucilius must like the burn because he slides up onto his elbows, drops his mouth open, and _moans._ And normally Belial would probably take his time to tease him, would start slow and avoid all the spots that would reduce him into a shivering mass of nerves, but something about Lucilius leaves him feeling desperate and impatient. He curls his finger almost cruelly, rubbing harsh and insistent up against him, and watches with rapt fascination as Lucilius' entire body jerks and his legs fall open so wide that his knees nearly touch the mattress.

 

Belial smirks, adding another finger and watching the panic that seems to flash across Lucilius' face every time the pleasure starts to mount too high. He begins rubbing his fingers in an insistent circle against that spot in response, the noises dragging from Lucilius' chest becoming high-pitched and rough as his hips unconsciously roll down against Belial's hand despite the heady combo of fear and fury on his face, and Belial can't help but wonder if a passer-by might think he was _murdering_ Lucilius instead of fucking him nearly insensate with nothing but his fingers.

 

"You know, I always used to think you were fucking Lucifer," Belial says conversationally, taking pity on him just enough to begin thrusting his fingers in and out again. "You're so fucking full of yourself most of the time that I thought for _sure_ you'd have made a clone just so you could look into your own face while you took a cock up your ass."

 

It takes Lucilius a few moments to respond, jaw working wordlessly as he grips the sheets under him. "Didn't — want Lucifer," he manages at last, and Belial twists his fingers with a laugh.

 

"No? Not into the the boring, honorable type?" He moves to crouch between Lucilius' bent knees again, pausing to add a third finger and then fucking him harder, free hand grabbing Lucilius' slender hips to help drag him into it. "Maybe Raphael, then? He doesn't have much of a personality, but he's so pissy all the time I bet he'd be a rough fuck. Or Uriel? You made him so much _bigger_ than you, he could probably fold you in half if he wanted."

 

Lucilius' eyes shoot open and he manages a glare, hazy as it is but burning bright. " _No._ Not one of them."

 

Belial moves the hand at his hip to brace next to Lucilius' head, delighted when Lucilius keeps fucking himself back onto Belial's fingers without his hand there to urge him on. "Interesting. Out of curiosity, did you give them all cocks as large as mine by default? Or was I the only one despite this _never being a goal?_ "

 

" _That's enough._ " Lucilius snarls, all unfocused rage and sweat-damp skin: the prettiest Belial has ever seen him, "just shut up and _fuck me._ "

 

The words do something to Belial and he groans, dropping to one elbow to lick into Lucilius' mouth as he slides his hand free. He kisses him hard, barely breathing as his oily hand roams everywhere, first to cup Lucilius' breast, down to grab at his hip, then around to knead at the flesh of his cheek, grabbing and pulling to slot their bodies closer together. Lucilius kisses back with a surprising amount of fire for someone always so cold, a soft groan rumbling from his chest as Belial grinds his cock across his slick hole, each ridge seeming to catch and drag against him.

 

Belial finally pulls back for air after several long minutes, sucking Lucilius' bottom lip into his mouth one last time before before sitting back on his knees. The sight of Lucilius, well and truly breathless with a pretty pink flush all the way from his cheeks to his cock, is almost more than Belial can stand. "I wonder what god made you," he says quietly, sliding his hands down Lucilius' thighs and urging them around his waist. "I wish I could show them my gratitude, because fuck, you're _lovely._ " His hands are gentle even as he shoves himself forward in one brutal thrust, throwing his head back to the heavens and laughing out _thank you_ to whichever god might be listening as he feels Lucilius' legs tighten around him.

 

It doesn't take much effort after that to get the angle right; every single part of Lucilius seems to be sensitive, but Belial still uses the grip at his waist to manipulate his hips forward and back until a certain thrust makes him arch so hard it looks nearly painful, mouth dropping open in the prettiest gasp. Belial holds him down hard, keeping the angle exact as he starts fucking him rougher, smiling around a groan as he looks down at the expression on Lucilius' face.

 

Lucilius looks caught somewhere between panic and fury again, breath hitching in tiny gasps as his eyelashes clump with tears and hair falls damp and sweaty across his forehead. He looks _miserable,_ hands reaching out as though to push Belial away - but then his just clutches tight onto his forearms instead, hips still grinding back desperately to meet each thrust, and Belial lets out a breathless laugh.

 

_What a fucking treasure._

 

It's when Lucilius begins making caught, wounded noises in the back of his throat, cock twitching and weeping onto his stomach and body wringing down tight around Belial, that he realizes, " _Fuck,_ Cilius, I think you're going to come just from me fucking you." Lucilius' thighs start to tremble as they clutch desperately around Belial's sculpted hips a moment later, mouth falling open around a tormented little noise as his body begins to tense in waves. Belial shakes his head in wonder, an astonished laugh mixing with a groan at the feeling of Lucilius going shivery underneath him. "You _are,_ I can feel it - you're starting to get so tight. Come on, don't fight it, you're _right there—_ "

 

The moment Belial feels that lithe body begin to snap, he grabs Lucilius' slender hips and forces him down into the mattress, rolling against him in tight circles. Lucilius makes one last sob of protest, struggling against the weight pinning him down and spine twisting as his hands clutch the sheets so hard they come loose from the mattress, and then his body goes deliciously taut as he comes in desperate waves across his chest and the bed under them.

 

It isn't until Lucilius gives one last little shudder and then sags, body beginning to jerk with overstimulation, that Belial finally slides his arms under his shoulders to cradle the back of his head as he presses a kiss against his sweaty temple and focuses on his own pleasure. It doesn't take long, with Lucilius' body wringing tight around him and the sound of his breathless noises, and Belial gasps against his hair as he finds his own release.

 

For several long moments after that he just focuses on his breath, feeling surprisingly worn out, before gently untangling Lucilius' legs from around his waist and sinking to down onto the bed next to him without letting him out of his arms. Lucilius is tolerant of it for longer than Belial would have expected, allowing his hair to be tucked behind his ear and kiss after slow kiss pressed against his jaw, his temple, his chin, before he finally pushes against Belial's face with an annoyed groan.

 

"If you're looking for someone to stroke your hair and cradle you to sleep, Gabriel's room is in a different wing, I think. She might even play her harp for you if you ask nicely."

 

Belial just laughs and presses one last kiss underneath Lucilius' eye, catching his wrists as Lucilius goes to shove at him.

 

"I would die for you, you know," he says casually, and Lucilius actually exhales a single laugh as though Belial had just told a joke.

 

He feels Lucilius' fingers reach out, fingertips grazing and caressing slowly over the dips of his stomach, and though Lucilius' mouth is definitely smirking, it doesn't seem nearly as cruel now, somehow.

 

"Good," he says quietly, eyes gone just a little bit softer for all their harsh edges as he looks at Belial. "Because you probably will, one day."

**Author's Note:**

> Look real talk, the reasonings for PWPs are always flimsy at best. You are right to assume that I barely tried, but I think we can all admit that the leap to "WE SHOULD FUCK" is always incredibly jarring regardless of the amount of banter leading up to it.
> 
> Twitter is @666ofOne if you feel so inclined <3


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